Page 65 of Rush

“He’ll still be there tomorrow,” Isla agrees. “I don’t see him giving up anytime soon.”

I cry it out, all the confusion, the worry, the belief that I’m not worthy. Surrounded by my best friends, the women who know me best, I feel safe and accepted. My love for Jameson Kane isn’t judged. His actions and my response aren’t looked down upon. I feel free to love him the way he is and see him as the provider he’s shown me he can be. We all fall asleep in the cramped living room, and when the early sunrays peek through the curtains, I begin to feel like I’ve shed part of the past that I’d been holding onto. A weight that was never mine to carry.

sam

. . .

The crowd in the arena tonight is loud. Stadium, rock concert type loud where the noise settles into your bones and the cheers make your chest vibrate. The crisp chill of the ice wakes me up and keeps me focused. My skates glide smoothly over the freshly paved sheet of ice after the first period. Nothing can touch me here, in my domain. Not the past, not the messy present I am in either. All that matters right now is winning this game and advancing to the next. I can taste the victory already, and that victory will be sweeter than the best desserts. My team can feel it too. There's an understanding amongst us, a low, vibrating hum of anticipation mixed with skill and tenacity. We aren’t leaving here with a loss tonight.

“Is your head in the game?” Riley asks as she skates next to me on our way to the face-off.

Smirking at her, I nod. “You just score us another goal, Riles. Maybe one more and your boyfriend will chill about why girls’ night was good for you.”

She rolls her eyes and skates past me while I stop on my line. Reign and Hawke were not impressed by our impromptu secret ladies’ night. They were enraged that our phones and locations were off for hours as well. Surprisingly, Jameson also helped us out of this one. He was able to confirm that we were at Isla’s and that we were safe. Isla was shocked to learn that Carter does in fact know where she lives. Jameson had texted the boyfriends after Carter drove past the house for him, and they remained somewhat calm until the morning when we all got back to the arena and our phones turned on. Both Emma and Riley left in a hurry after that.

A part of me had been terrified of turning my phone on. I soon realized that I wasn’t scared of an angry text or a text begging for an explanation of why I didn’t show up. No, it hit me square in the chest as my phone powered on, I was scared that he hadn’t messaged me at all. I was terrified that maybe this time I pushed too much space between us. I panicked in those first seventeen seconds of my phone lighting up, wondering if Jameson decided to give up on me. Then the message popped up, and greedily, I opened it.

KANE: I’m sorry.

Shock raced through me followed quickly by relief. Shortly after that, anger exploded in my chest. What was he sorry for? I couldn’t reply. All I could picture was Jameson walking away from me and Dylan and I’d be on my own. My fear at his text message was that my worst nightmare was coming true.

With nowhere to go, I got lunch and returned to the arena, spending the day going over game tapes, drills and just trying to relax. All of that prep is paying off. I can feel it in bones; it’s running through my veins. The puck drops and the game is thrown into motion. The other team’s forward charges and I ready myself for the war that is about to pick up again. Our 2-1 lead isn’t enough; our opponent can easily catch up. My job is to protect my goalie, have her back, so that this team doesn’t stand a chance of scoring again. Riley skates with the puck down the other end, weaving between players before taking a shot. The puck deflects off the goalie’s pad and sails over to one of our wings. She hesitates a second too long and passes it back to me, before getting a shoulder from our opponent. Dancing the puck around the ice, I look for an opening or a freed-up player. Seeing no one, I take the shot, right as Emma steps into the line and helps tip the goal in. At the end of the second period, we are winning 3-1.

The break between periods, my eyes flick to the crowd. I saw them when I first touched the ice earlier and had almost cried on the spot. A few rows up, center ice, Jameson is sitting with Dylan, who is once again wearing her signature jersey, her hair on top of her head with some purple ribbon around it. My heart bursts seeing my girl. I miss her.

As the game reaches do-or-die time in the last minutes of the third period, the puck lands on the end of my stick. Perfect pass. Adrenaline coats my stomach as I push the limits of my speed, skating up middle ice, dangling the puck and getting the goalie’s attention, before pulling back and firing the puck into the back of the net. The alarm blares and the crowd erupts in cheers. The last few seconds tick off the clock, but we’re already celebrating our 4-1 victory for the night. My team jumps into a huddle, everyone hugging and clapping each other on the shoulder before we’re motioned off the ice. With once last glance at the stands, my heart melts seeing Dylan standing, waving and cheering with a sign that reads ‘#9 is the MOMest BESTest!’

In the locker room, I rush to change and gather my gear, intent on hugging my little girl. Exiting the arena, I’m practically running to the main lobby to find them. Dylan spots me first, her little scream of excitement making my heart race. Her little body slams into mine and I scoop her up in my arms, twirling her around and smacking kisses on her cheeks. She giggles and holds her hands to my face.

“You skate fast, Mommy!”

“Did you like the game, sweet girl?” I nuzzle into her neck, enjoying her baby scent. Dylan uses her hand to mimic how fast I zoom across the ice while I watch her like she’s the best thing in the world.

“We make a sign.” She holds up her sign again and I set her on her feet so I can properly read it this time.

“Wow! This so pretty, Dyl. Thank you.”

Her brown eyes widen and she looks behind me. I don’t have to guess who stole her attention; I can feel him. A charged connection pulses between us, as heat spreads up my spine.

Slowly, I turn to face the man I’ve been hiding from all day, the one I’m in love with, but I’m too scared to want him the way I do, which is as obsessively as he wants me.. His dark hair is messy, like his hands have been running in it all day. His usual warm brown eyes are heated as they trail over my body. With a few days of stubble on his jaw, his blue sweater and black jacket and in those jeans, he makes my knees weak. Jameson Kane has always been the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

“Thanks for the sign. And for bringing her to the game,” I manage to say, unsticking my tongue from the roof of my mouth. I give him my real smile, my gaze pleading with his, begging him to put us out of our misery.

Instead, Jameson offers me a gentle smile, almost polite in return. “We couldn’t miss Mommy’s big game, right Dyl?” Our daughter shakes her head no, her wispy hairs flying around her face, her grin bigger than ever.

There's an awkward pause, a silence that didn’t exist between us until now. Fear floods my system, rendering me speechless. All the thoughts and questions I saved all day evaporate from my mind. I want to know about his sorry text and now I’ve clammed up.

“I should get her home and into bed. Is the team celebrating tonight?” he says, his arms reaching out for Dylan who moves easily into her daddy’s hold.

“I think so,” I finally manage to say. He gives me another small smile, and I hate it. It's fake and performatory; yet, I can’t get myself to call him out on it.

“Congrats on the win. You played hard. The team deserves it,” he replies, stepping back with Dylan. “All right little Pretty Girl. Say goodnight to Mommy.”

Dylan’s big brown eyes swing to me and she leans her head on his shoulder. “Night, Mommy! Love you.”

“I love you too,” I choke out, frozen in place, watching the two loves of my life walk out of the arena.

Anger at myself grips my heart, my lungs convulse, and the room suddenly feels too hot, too noisy, too much everything. Needing to breathe, I race down an empty hall and duck inside the office. Sliding down to the floor, I put my head between my knees and take deep breathes, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill over.